


a thousand armies

by Iris_Duncan_72



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Angst, Curses, Deal with a Devil, Demons, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Jeongin knows all, M/M, Oops, The Author Knows Nothing, all aboard the rare pair ship, apparently this is now a warped beauty and the beast retelling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:08:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22571527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iris_Duncan_72/pseuds/Iris_Duncan_72
Summary: The bill comes due.
Relationships: Bang Chan/Kim Seungmin, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 137





	a thousand armies

**Author's Note:**

> psa: i came into this story with an idea. i have no clue what happened to that idea. it got lost somewhere in the first bit. everything else is ad lib.
> 
> title from florence and the machine.

The devil's voice is sweet to hear.

\- Stephen King

  


  


The man arrived just after sunset, while the family were still eating dinner.

Chan sat opposite his sister, with his back to the huge glass doors of the balcony, so when Chanmi gasped and his head jerked up, the first thing he knew of the man was the expression on her face. Chanmi was good at controlling her emotions, certainly much better than Chan, but now she wore her shock plainly, eyes wide and mouth open.

‘Who’s _that?’_ she demanded, breathy with surprise.

Chan twisted around in his seat, hearing his father’s sharp intake of breath just as he caught sight of the man standing outside. The man who had seemingly teleported up to their thirtieth storey balcony and who was silhouetted sharply against the twilight sky. He stood casually, hands tucked in the pockets of his dark blue suit and his white shirt open at the collar. The apartment lights glinted off his teeth as he smiled and the hairs on Chan’s arms prickled.

‘Father?’ Chanmi hissed. ‘Who is he? Why is he here?’

Bang Chanhee was uncharacteristically silent and when Chan glanced at him, he was startled to see that his father’s face had a distinctly queasy pallor to it. That was not, Chan thought, a look of surprise.

‘Chan, let him in,’ Chanhee murmured, lips barely moving.

‘Yes, Father.’

Functioning on automatic, Chan got to his feet and approached the sliding door. Behind him, he heard Chanmi demand an explanation, only to be furiously hushed by their mother. The following silence fell like a weighted blanket over Chan’s shoulders as he closed his fingers around the handle. The stranger met his gaze through the glass and Chan was gripped by a primal urge to _run, run, run_. Something deep in his mind whispered that it was too late to run – the man had already seen him.

Chan slid the door open. ‘Please come in,’ he said politely.

The stranger’s smile didn’t flicker as he stepped inside, sleek black shoes and all. Chan got a whiff of lavender as the man passed him, and the small part of his brain not currently hyperventilating noted the unusual scent. He shut the door and turned back in time to see Chanhee rise slowly from the table, while Chanmi’s gaze flicked between the stranger and their father. Their mother, Areum, kept her attention fixed on Chanhee and Chan wondered if she knew what was going on.

‘Hello, Chanhee,’ the stranger greeted, his tone warm and intimate and deeply unnerving. ‘You’re looking well.’

Actually, Chanhee didn’t look very well at all right now and Chan didn’t think he’d ever seen his father so uncomposed. Who the hell _was_ this man?

Chanhee cleared his throat. ‘Seungmin,’ he said, a slight tremor to his voice. ‘You’re early.’

Seungmin replied, ‘No, I’m not,’ before glancing over his shoulder at Chan. ‘Come and join your family, won’t you?’

Chan jolted, tearing his gaze from those icy eyes, and swiftly returned to the table. He didn’t sit down, though.

Attention shifting back to Chanhee, Seungmin continued, ‘I’m perfectly on time. It’s been thirty years, to the very minute.’

Chanmi gasped again and Chan very nearly joined her. Gods above and below, was Seungmin from a gang or something? Perhaps a loan shark? He couldn’t be working alone – he looked about Chan’s age, which was a whole five years off thirty.

Seungmin tipped his head to one side, cold gaze dancing over to Chanmi briefly, and his smile widened to a grin. A horribly handsome one, Chan absolutely could not help but notice. Indeed, Seungmin’s entire appearance was attractive enough that in any other situation, Chan would think him a model or an idol.

‘Oh?’ His whole expression shone with a kind of perverse delight. ‘You haven’t told them?’

‘Told us what?’ Chanmi snapped, but she was ignored.

‘How could I?’ Chanhee retorted. ‘They would’ve gone mad with that knowledge hanging over their heads like an axe every day.’

Nausea soured the food in Chan’s stomach and he contemplated the pros and cons of whipping out his phone to call the cops. He doubted his father would appreciate it any more than Seungmin, though, so he didn’t move.

‘But _you_ know,’ the elegant, terrifying stranger said, turning to Areum. ‘Did he fill you in before or after you’d had children?’

Chan stared at his mother, wide-eyed, while she studiously avoided meeting his gaze or Chanmi’s. She looked a bit like she’d swallowed a lemon, her jaw clenched tight as she spat, ‘That is none of your business, _demon.’_

Seungmin chuckled, the sound soft as velvet and somehow threatening to make Chan throw up. ‘After, then,’ he mused. ‘Well, Chanhee, perhaps you’d like to enlighten your poor children? Or shall I do it?’

Chanhee licked his lips, glancing between Chan and Chanmi. Chan’s heart plummeted to his feet – he knew that look. It was a sure sign that his father was already absolving himself of the consequences of this mess before anyone else knew enough to hold him accountable.

‘Chan, Chanmi,’ he rasped. ‘As you know, I – I do not come from the most auspicious of backgrounds. I had to work hard to earn my wealth and I may have made a... foolish decision along the –’

Seungmin snorted, his warm veneer cracking to reveal heavy disdain. ‘A foolish decision? Really?’ he sneered. ‘You mean to say you wouldn’t make it again in an _instant_ if the clock was wound back, _Bang Chanhee?’_

Chanhee flinched back, bumping into the table, and a faint noise of horror escaped Chan’s throat. He didn’t understand what was going on. Why was this happening? _What_ was happening? He had the vague feeling he was watching his life crumble to dust around him without the faintest clue why or how to stop it.

Running a hand through his neatly combed dark fringe, Seungmin sighed impatiently. ‘I’m getting bored. Let’s speed things up, shall we? Chan, Chanmi –’ he echoed their father’s words from a moment before – ‘your beloved father here made a deal with me on this night thirty years ago. Destitute and incredibly resentful, he promised me whatever I liked in return for good health and ludicrous wealth.’

‘That’s – that’s ridiculous,’ Chanmi spluttered. ‘Who are you to offer such things?’

‘Oh, how rude of me, I haven’t introduced myself.’ Straightening slightly, Seungmin inclined his head and said, ‘I am Seungmin and I am a demon. If you are prone to Christian beliefs, you might know me as Abaddon.’

What the fuck? No, seriously. What the _fuck?_ Maybe the man was mad. Maybe Chan’s parents were mad too, if they believed any of this. They were certainly both looking a little unhinged right now.

As ever, Chanmi was the one who spoke up, always confident and strident where Chan was uncertain and hesitant. Shoving back her chair, she leaned forward over the table, eyes narrow with anger, and began, ‘Okay, listen here –’

Seungmin blinked.

And Chanmi fell silent. Completely, utterly silent, despite her still-moving mouth.

Chanhee froze, Areum cried out in alarm, reaching for her panicking daughter, and Chan whipped around to face the smug Seungmin, hands forming fists.

‘Stop it,’ he barked, voice low with urgency. ‘Leave her alone.’

‘I was wondering when I’d get a peep out of you,’ Seungmin said cheerfully, though his gaze was still bone-chillingly cold. ‘Protective older brother, are you? Please don’t do anything rash, I’d so hate to have to hurt you.’

Pinned under the weight of those eyes, Chan’s burst of confidence melted away like snow in the sun, leaving him stiff with fear. His skin crawled and his every instinct screeched at him to hide, to shift the stranger’s attention away from him by any means necessary.

Behind him, Areum was sobbing and Chanmi was still distressingly voiceless.

Chan didn’t lower his gaze and Seungmin started to smile again.

‘Tell you what, Chan,’ the stranger, the _demon_ said contemplatively. ‘I’ll let you help me decide what my price should be.’ He tilted forward. ‘Will it be you or Chanmi I walk out of here with tonight?’

‘No! You said –’

Seungmin didn’t even blink this time, Chanhee’s voice cutting out mid-sentence.

Chan’s knees felt weak and his breath was quickening. He braced a hand on the back of his chair for stability and weakly questioned, ‘Me or Chanmi? You’re... taking one of us?’

‘That’s right, Chan.’ Seungmin stepped closer and the scent of lavender returned. ‘Your father wants me to take Chanmi, so he can keep the male line of his family intact, despite Chanmi obviously being the more suited of you two for running a company as powerful as Bang Enterprises.’

The words cut like knives, easily slicing through the defences Chan had spent a lifetime building around his heart. He’d survived the disappointment of his parents, the mockery of his peers, the helpless envy of his sister, but Seungmin’s ruthless honesty made him _bleed._

As he stood there, struggling to draw breath, every bit of his body numb, Chan heard his mother growl, with more anger than he’d ever heard from her, _‘What?_ Is that true, Chanhee?’

It was just as well that Chan could imagine the fury on Areum’s face, the desperation on Chanhee’s, and the desolation on Chanmi’s, because Seungmin’s chill gaze was still holding him in place. He knew his mother had a favourite child and he was not it. He knew his sister looked up to their father in spite of his continued resistance against her being anything other than a perfect housewife. He knew how she thrived in the high stakes whirlwind pressure of the business world and how, for all her jealousy, she’d never hated him.

‘Take me,’ he whispered.

‘What was that?’ Seungmin asked, tilting his head like he hadn’t heard Chan _just_ find the first time.

Chan cleared his throat, trying to inject a little steel in his voice. ‘Take me,’ he repeated. ‘Take me as your price.’

Seungmin beamed and it was quite unfair how angelic that expression looked on him. ‘Alright, then.’

‘Wait, you can’t just – just take my son,’ Areum suddenly protested shrilly.

Seungmin glanced over Chan’s shoulder at her, but when Chan made as if to turn, the demon’s arm shot up and gripped his jaw. The hold was not painful but it was very firm and Chan was too busy being extremely startled by the touch to try and break it.

‘Actually,’ Seungmin replied coolly, ‘I can. From this moment forth, the Bang family is one of three. How convenient that you’ve all arranged yourselves on one side of the table like that.’

Chan bit his lip to stifle a feeble whimper. Judging by the amount of susurrating noise behind him, like cloth over skin and limbs through the air, it was unlikely that there was anything “convenient” about the arrangement. Seungmin started walking backwards towards the balcony door and Chan’s heart squeezed as he realised he wasn’t going to be allowed to turn around and say goodbye. He blinked twice and immediately felt a curl of shame rise within him as a hot tear streaked down one cheek.

Seungmin paused, attention narrowing in on the droplet with frighteningly intense focus. He moved his thumb and the liquid smeared over Chan’s skin, his long lashes flicking up as his cold eyes met Chan’s.

‘Don’t weep for them, Chan,’ he said softly. ‘They are not worth your tears.’

 _And what about me?_ he thought desperately. _For all I know, I’m going to be tortured or enslaved for the rest of my life._

That sunshine smile unfurled across Seungmin’s handsome face again. ‘Nonsense,’ he scoffed. ‘I don’t torture or enslave the people I like. There are so few of you, after all.’ Before Chan could even _begin_ to process that announcement, Seungmin continued, ‘Now, close your eyes and this won’t take a moment.’

Helpless before the demon’s will, Chan’s eyes slipped shut.

Warm air whispered over his skin and then –

‘Welcome to your new home, Chan.’

Chan opened his eyes and saw that he stood now under an inky sky scattered with unfamiliar stars, before a sprawling house the size of a castle, which looked like it had been designed by architects from every era of human history. A gleaming plaque on the front read _Red Fox House_. Seungmin took another step backwards, hands in his pockets once more, and jerked his head towards the house just as the red front door (large enough to fit an elephant through) swung open.

‘Come on, then,’ the demon said, and he turned away, leaving Chan no choice but to follow.

  


  


The first few days (whatever that meant; time didn’t seem to be very stable here) passed like a dream. They were hazy and surreal and Chan wasn’t entirely sure when one started and another ended.

Seungmin showed him to an extensive suite of rooms that were apparently now his, told him he could wander where he wished, and left. Chan proceeded to have a panic attack that left him limp and exhausted in a corner of the bedroom. He might very well have stayed there till he died of dehydration, so utterly overwhelmed was he, had an ethereally pretty, semi-translucent person with scarlet hair not come and found him.

‘There you are,’ they grumbled. ‘I warned Seungmin this would happen, I _warned_ him, but did he listen to me? Of course not. Can I touch you?’

Chan blinked sluggishly up at them, feeling quite numb and extremely fragile.

They sighed. ‘Okay, I’m going to touch you. Let me know if you want me to stop.’

Then they reached out wrapped cool fingers around Chan’s wrists, carefully dragging him to his feet with more strength than he would have thought someone so seemingly insubstantial could possess. He swayed on his feet, light-headed, and caught a glimpse of a thousand gilded foxes racing across the walls before he squeezed his eyes shut. Wallpaper or not, the red and gold creatures looked entirely too much like they were actually moving.

‘Alright, let’s get you some food and a bath, shall we? Oh, my name’s Felix, by the way. I look after the house and don’t let anybody tell you otherwise.’

And so things went.

It took Chan several days to find his voice. When he did, he was with Felix again. They’d taken it upon themself to give him a tour of the main areas of the house (of which there were many) and had informed him that if was allowed to go through a door, it would open for him. If he wasn’t, it wouldn’t. Simple.

They were directing his attention to an immense fox-shaped hedge maze out of a window framed by heavy crimson curtains (patterned with more gold foxes), when Chan interrupted, ‘What am I meant to do?’ His voice, though husky and cracking at the edges, didn’t give out.

Felix looked at him, their eyes just translucent enough that discerning their colour was impossible. ‘Whatever you wish.’

Chan frowned, a ribbon of frustration breaking through the numb fog. ‘I want to go home.’

‘You _are_ home,’ they countered steadily.

The ribbon coiled tightly in his chest and his heartbeat picked up. He could feel his fingertips again. ‘No, I’m not. My home is –’

‘Here,’ Felix butted in. ‘Seungmin told you this is your home now.’

Seungmin. Memories of a blue suit hanging elegantly on the tall, lean frame of a demon with cold eyes and a warm smile flashed through Chan’s mind and his hands curled into fists at his sides.

‘Where is he?’

‘Do you want to see him now?’ Felix asked.

Chan blinked, a little surprised. Then again, they had said he could do whatever he wished. He nodded.

‘Alright. This way.’

‘Um... won’t we be interrupting him? Or – or something?’ Chan asked anxiously as he followed Felix up a flight of stairs.

They shot him an amused look. ‘Jeongin has already informed him that we’re on our way. Besides, if we can’t see him now, the door won’t open, remember?’

Oh, so that wasn’t just something that applied to Chan. But – ‘Who’s Jeongin?’

Felix looked startled for a moment before their expression relaxed. ‘I forgot you haven’t met the others. Jeongin is the Red Fox, the spirit who holds this place together.’ They gestured aimlessly with a hand, indicating to the house at large.

...Right. That probably explained all the vulpine imagery around the place.

The pair stopped outside a pair of double doors, reliefs carved into the dark wood. They stood out starkly against the modern, minimalist style of this floor of the house and the rich colouring was visible through Felix’s hand as they knocked. Without waiting for a response, they turned a heavy gold handle and smiled when the door clicked.

‘In you go, then,’ Felix said, pushing the door open. ‘Stop worrying; he’s expecting you, remember?’

Heart thudding against his ribs, Chan stepped past them into a large office. A chandelier glinted overhead, illuminating the wood-furnished room, and an immense stone slab, barely smoothed enough to be usable, sat directly opposite him. What else the room held Chan couldn’t say, his attention immediately caught by the smiling demon behind the stone desk. There was a soft _snick_ as the door closed and Chan barely managed not to flinch, hands once more bloodless fists.

Seungmin walked with a measured pace around the stone slab and leaned against it, hands in his pockets, ankles crossed. Today he wore a charcoal suit, a slim black belt buckled around his waist and his shirt fully buttoned up. He cocked his head, neat fringe falling across his forehead.

‘Hello again,’ Seungmin greeted.

Panicked survival instincts warred with Chan’s furious need to demand an explanation and for a moment it was all he could do to breathe. Then he steeled his spine.

‘What are your plans for me?’ he snapped. ‘What am I meant to be _doing?’_

Thin brows raised over cold eyes, that smile unfaltering. ‘Whatever you wish,’ was the spectacularly unhelpful reply.

‘I wish to go home. My _real_ home,’ Chan said firmly.

‘Oh? If I recall correctly, you came here willingly. I gave you a choice and you chose to come with me.’

Chan pursed his lips. That was an undeniable truth, no matter how awful the circumstances had been. ‘So that’s it?’ He couldn’t quite keep the note of desperation from his voice. ‘I’m just – stuck here, wherever we are, for the rest of my life? I just wander around your house until I die?’

He didn’t realise how far forward he’d leaned until Seungmin suddenly pushed off the desk and stalked towards him, making him rock back on his heels, fighting not to give ground. Seungmin stopped when they were toe to toe, staring down at him. The delicate scent of lavender rose curled through the air.

‘Let me make something clear, Chan,’ Seungmin murmured. ‘You are mine. By the contract your father entered into with me thirty years ago, you are mine. I know this has been distressing for you, so I have given you the space and time to adjust to your new surroundings.’

He paused, inhaling slowly, and Chan instinctively copied him, resisting his body’s attempts to start hyperventilating.

‘But you must never forget,’ Seungmin continued softly, lifting a hand to trace his fingertips very lightly over Chan’s jaw, ‘that I am a demon. It is not my nature to be kind, to be charitable, to give and take nothing in return. I, like every one of my brethren, always have an ulterior motive. Let me know when you’ve figured out what mine is. Until then, by all means, explore my home at your leisure.’

Seungmin spun on his heel and went back to the stone desk, his attention elsewhere. Understanding that he’d been dismissed, Chan forced life back into his limbs and left the office. The door clicked shut behind him and he saw Felix a little way off, seemingly talking to a painting hanging on the wall. As Chan approached, however, he saw that the black fox in the picture was moving in its frame, head tilted like it was looking right at Felix.

Feeling as though he was intruding, Chan hovered awkwardly a few paces away and cleared his throat. Felix turned at once to him. They briefly patted the fox on the wall before coming over to meet him, plush lips curled up in a slight smile.

‘I’m sorry if I interrupted or anything,’ Chan mumbled, tugging uncertainly on the dark curls at his nape.

Felix shrugged their shoulders. ‘It’s alright, I’ll see Jeongin later. I take it your meeting went well? You were done pretty quick and there was no screaming.’

Chan ignored the thread of disappointment in their tone. ‘It... went,’ was his eventual reply.

Felix nodded. ‘Always a good start. Do you fancy seeing the garden now? Minho and Changbin want to meet you.’

‘Um, sure.’ Chan liked gardens. ‘Who are Minho and Changbin?’ Were they demons, too?

Leading the way once more, Felix explained, ‘They’re the gardeners and gatekeepers here. They deal to unwanted plant life and unwanted visitors, which usually means they just eat them. The visitors, not the plants. Gargoyles are carnivorous, you know.’

‘Oh,’ Chan said faintly.

Outside, the sky was pale with the light of the rising sun – as it had been for at least three hours. The gardens were expansive, stretching out as far as the eye could see in all directions and as varied as you like. Felix and Chan found the two gardeners arguing in a Japanese rock garden, one of them waving a rake around and the other gesturing empathically to a trio of rocks floating beside him. Both men, or gargoyles, rather, had large leathery wings that arched overhead (were those little horns Chan could see poking out of their hair?) and bright red eyes.

The gargoyle with the rake, whose complexion was fair and whose rounded eyes were vaguely catlike, took a swipe at the honey-skinned gargoyle, who yelped and leaped backwards into the air defensively. Chan inhaled sharply, concerned, but Felix patted his arm.

‘They fight all the time, I wouldn’t worry about it,’ they said, taking a seat on the edge of the veranda of the traditional hut. ‘They call it “solving creative differences”.’

The gargoyle with the rocks was now breathing fire at his rake-wielding fellow gardener, who in turn was yelling something about... undisturbed serenity? Uncertain but willing to follow Felix’s lead, Chan sat next to them, his bare toes just barely reaching the stones below. (Assorted shoes had been offered to him to go with the very modern clothes in his new wardrobe, but Chan had always preferred to feel the ground beneath his feet.)

Apparently impatient at how long the gardeners were taking to sort out their creative differences, Felix yelled, ‘Hey! Minho! Changbin! We have company!’

The fighting stopped instantly, both gargoyles swooping down to land in front of Chan, whom they stared at with avid interest.

‘Ooh, so this is the human, hmm?’ the gargoyle with the rake asked, nose twitching as he sniffed at Chan.

His companion whacked him on the back of the head, getting a bared teeth snarl in response. ‘Yah, don’t freak him out already, Minho. He hasn’t been here half a minute yet!’ He then smiled with surprising sweetness. ‘Hi, Chan. I’m Changbin, the head gardener –’

Minho elbowed Changbin in the side, making him wheeze in pain. ‘Ignore him,’ Minho said cheerfully, putting the spluttering gargoyle in a headlock. ‘He doesn’t know what he’s talking about, as usual. _I’m_ the head gardener around here and it’s nice to meet you.’

Chan had no time to reply, as Changbin freed himself from Minho’s grip with a roar, headbutting him clean off his feet so he landed on his wings and back with an _oof_. Snatching up the fallen rake, Changbin twirled it like a sword and used the clawed end to tip Minho’s head back.

 _‘I_ am the head gardener,’ he growled. ‘You can be my deputy.’

Minho scoffed, not intimidated in the slightest. ‘Other way around, pretty boy.’

The rake caught fire then and the gargoyles launched themselves at each other with the ferocity of children fighting over playground swings. Chan and Felix, it would seem, had been forgotten.

Sighing deeply, Felix got to their feet again, fussily tugging at the lace-edged sleeves of their billowing blouse. ‘Come on,’ they huffed, jerking their head towards the exit. ‘We won’t get anything sensible out of them today.’

Bewildered, Chan complied silently. As they traipsed around some more of the garden, Felix once again in tour guide mode, Chan still couldn’t say with certainty that this wasn’t one very long, complex dream that his phone alarm would be waking him up from any minute now. If it was, well, it couldn’t be over soon enough.

  


  


As time went on in its odd, disjointed fashion, however, Chan began to lose hope that he was dreaming. The days continued to tick past, each one filled with new sections of the house and garden to explore, Felix his ever present companion, and periodic sightings of Minho and Changbin. For all their incessant squabbling, the pair seemed to be joined at the hip, one never seen without the other.

He got used to the foxes present in every nook and cranny of the house, as well as the way they _definitely_ moved when they thought he wasn’t looking. One day when he chanced up on a small room hung with beautiful tapestries of woodland scenes, Chan apologised to the trio of newly-frozen red foxes for disturbing them and quickly backed out of the room again. As he went, he was sure he heard a soft giggle from the direction of the foxes. It was a while before he glimpsed Jeongin himself, though, the spirit of Red Fox House remaining elusive. The one time Chan did, it was to see Felix and a tall man with black hair and a red fox’s tail walking hand in hand into a room. The man, who could surely only be Jeongin, glanced back as he pulled the door shut, gold eyes immediately finding Chan’s, and he grinned slyly. Chan flushed and he promptly turned around to go absolutely anywhere else – when Felix had said they _took care of the house_ , Chan hadn’t realised they meant it quite so literally.

He didn’t see much of Seungmin, though the demon’s presence in the house was impossible to ignore. Occasionally, Chan would catch a whiff of lavender or hear the demon’s voice fading away at the other end of a flight of stairs. It was driving him slightly mad, but he did his best to ignore it, instead focusing on mastering long-forgotten hobbies.

As a child, he’d loved drawing and he was good at it, too, but more and more family duties had been given to him as he grew, until he’d put away his pencils and sketchbooks for what he’d thought to be the last time. Now, however, Chan had nothing but time on his hands and both Felix and the house were very efficient at steering him in the right direction. Felix had simply shown him an entire section of the labyrinthine library dedicated to art and the house all but threw art rooms at him. Likewise, the gargoyles were perfectly happy to be of help, whether by pointing him in the direction of nice garden spots to sketch or offering themselves up as models. At first, Chan was hesitant about asking too much of them, especially when they reminded him how dangerous and otherworldly they were by throwing each other into trees and breathing fire, but they never turned any of their ire on him.

Mindboggling though it was, Chan thought that after his first month or two (it was hard to tell) in this little pocket world, he could safely say that he’d made three, possibly four, friends. They might all work for a demon and be very inhuman, but they were kind to him as no-one had been in a long, long time and this soothed the ragged edges of the hole in his chest left by the loss of his old life.

He wouldn’t say he’d gotten _used_ to this new life, but there was something quietly seductive about it. Chan could all but feel it twining its threads deeper into his consciousness, into his being, tying him to his place. Making him _other_ so he fit with the _other_ ness here. He hadn’t failed to notice that his hair seemed to have stopped growing, his jaw free of stubble through no efforts of his own. But that way lay madness, _acceptance_ , and he wasn’t quite ready for that, so he pushed it to the back of his mind.

One thing Chan couldn’t ignore, unfortunately, was what Seungmin had said to him that day in the study.

_I, like all my brethren, always have an ulterior motive. Let me know when you’ve figured out what mine is._

Not only were the words puzzling, they were also irritating because they implied that there was something more going on here than what Chan could see. As far as he could tell, his only involvement in this place was that he was the price Seungmin had exacted from Bang Chanhee. What more could there be to it?

He stumbled upon the answer entirely by accident.

  


  


Night had fallen some time ago, but Chan wasn’t tired. He spent a while drawing in his room, working on lining a portrait of Minho and Changbin. The two gardeners were in mid-flight and the picture showed a rare moment of peace between them, Minho’s face scrunched up in delight and Changbin beaming fit to burst.

However, the moonlit outdoors, visible through a large window at Chan’s side, kept distracting him. Tonight’s moon was full and low in the sky, casting a bright sheen over everything. Eventually, Chan put down his pencil with a sigh and got to his feet. He had yet to walk through the gardens at night, an experience he was sure would be different than doing so by daylight, and now was as good a time as any to do so.

Clad only in sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt, his hair a rumpled mess that came from running his fingers through it too many times, Chan left his suite and headed for the stairs. The house’s layout often changed, but it was usually very good about leading Chan exactly where he wanted to go and he trusted Jeongin to know what he was after now. Little red foxes ran across the walls in his periphery, keeping pace with him, and soon Chan reached a terrace door. Murmuring his thanks, he stepped outside.

The temperature was pleasantly balmy and the air was still. Everything was very quiet, only the chirruping of crickets to be heard. Not that Chan minded; the near-silence felt comfortable to him and, hands tucked in his pockets, he started off, curious to see where the garden would lead him. For a while, he roamed familiar areas, places he’d been many times during the day, sometimes with Felix, sometimes with Minho and Changbin, sometimes alone.

Chan ducked into a walled, European-style rose garden with a fountain in the middle, topped, of course, by a small marble fox. The roses were all asleep, but scattered throughout the beds were little plants he’d mistaken for simple grasses and which now had tiny flowers open to the moon, their petals silver and dark purple. He crouched by a flowerbed, dipping his head to catch their scent and rocking back on his heels as the heady smell washed over him.

He straightened up, ready to move on, but froze when the marble fox leapt from its perch onto the grass. It was still rare for the foxes to move when in his direct line of sight, so Chan stayed still, waiting to see what the little creature would do. Tail held high, it trotted over to an unremarkable stretch of wall and tapped one of the stones with its snout. Chan blinked in surprise when the outline of a door glowed briefly in the stone. Then the fox turned and sat in front of the wall, looking at him with eyes gone gold.

Gold. The colour of Jeongin’s eyes.

Chan realised abruptly that his presence here was rather more arranged than he’d thought a moment ago.

He approached the hidden door and the fox watched him closely every step of the way. ‘Why are you showing me this?’ he asked softly. ‘Why now?’

The reply echoed faintly in his head, like it was being spoken from far away. _It is time. Understanding lies this way, but you must choose to accept it. Sometimes, ignorance is bliss. Go forward or go back, the choice is yours, Chan._

Chan’s breath caught in his chest. Did Jeongin mean understanding about his role here, about the motive Seungmin had never explained to him? Surely that was it. There was nothing else he wanted, _needed_ to know. But –

‘Why wouldn’t I want to understand?’ he whispered. ‘Will I regret it if I go through the door?’

_That is entirely up to you._

Well, that was nice and useless. Still, Chan reckoned he’d spent long enough drifting around this place like it was a fantasy world he’d created in his head. Jeongin wouldn’t have brought him here without good reason.

‘I choose to go forward,’ he declared, quiet but firm.

_Very well. Stay silent and close by me until I tell you otherwise._

Chan gulped. ‘Okay.’

The fox got to its feet and tapped the wall again, once more illuminating the doorway, which it stepped through, disappearing into the stone. Extending a cautious hand, Chan found that the wall had no substance at all, so he followed his guide. On the other side, Chan found himself in a new area of the garden. Tall poplar trees created a sheltered avenue, stretching away into the distance. A light breeze rustled through the leaves, creating a sound like tinkling rain, and the broken shadows on the ground danced.

Shaking himself out of his reverie, Chan hurried after the fox, trying to keep his footsteps light. They walked a little way and when he glanced back over his shoulder, there was no wall, no doorway, only the endless avenue and the goosebumps that prickled over his skin had nothing to do with the temperature. After a time, they drew nearer to the avenue’s end, though it took Chan a minute to work out what it was in the gloom, especially as the fox had slowed its pace considerably, each step it took carefully considered.

At last, Chan could make out a raised stone dais just beyond the trees, bathed in moonlight and etched with symbols that made his head hurt to even look at. As the fox stepped fully into the shadow of a poplar but three trees back from the dais, Chan realised that the kneeling figure in the centre was not a statue and that they were crying. No, not crying. _Sobbing_. Their shoulders shook with the force of the awful, broken sobs tearing from them.

Then they tipped their head back and Chan bit down sharply on his lip to keep from making a sound as shock punched through him, leaving him breathless and wide-eyed.

_That’s Seungmin._

‘You were right,’ the demon said, his voice husky and raw, and for a heart-stopping moment Chan thought he and the fox had been discovered.

A woman wreathed in shadows appeared on the dais. ‘I always am,’ she replied, sounding amused. ‘You’ll have to be more specific.’

‘He knows me only as a monster.’ Seungmin’s voice cracked on the final word and he dropped his head to his chest. ‘He has no wish to see beyond that.’

The woman laughed, the low sound carrying easily on the still air, and walked slowly around the dais. ‘Why would he? I heard that you took him from his family.’ She chuckled again. ‘Of all the ways I imagined that clause to be realised, your saviour being an oath-child I did not predict.’

Seungmin’s attention snapped back to her. ‘He is _not_ my saviour,’ he growled, the menacing sound making Chan shiver. ‘Your vanity has doomed me. I hope you’re happy now.’

Waving a dismissive hand, the woman came to a stop before him. ‘You give up too easily. Have you even _tried_ courting him or simply making friends? If you avoid him forever, you cannot blame me, for it will be _you_ who has squandered this chance.’

‘Chance?’ Seungmin scoffed. ‘His grief drives me to weeping every single night. He despises me and for good reason. That is not what I call a _chance.’_

The woman threw her hands up in the air, clearly exasperated. ‘I cannot turn back time and I cannot undo my curse, whether or not I want to. The circumstances may not be in your favour, but this is the _only_ chance you have so I strongly suggest you divest yourself of your self-pity, for it is _very_ unappealing, and _do something about it._ ’ She huffed, tossing her head. ‘Before it is too late.’

And she disappeared.

In the silence that followed, Chan ducked back behind the poplar, leaning against the trunk and digging his fingers into the bark for support. His mind spun with dizzying speed, the implications of what he’d heard staggering, and it was all he could do to stay upright. At his feet, the little marble fox looked up at him, gold eyes glowing in the gloom.

 _You knew,_ he thought at it. _You knew about this – this curse. God. What the_ fuck?

Behind him, Seungmin was sobbing again, his cries so desolate that Chan was gripped with a foolish urge to go up to the dais and comfort him.

_...your saviour being an oath-child I did not predict._

The damning words echoed loudly in Chan’s skull and he squeezed his eyes shut. He did not want to think it, he really, really did _not_ want to but –

_He knows me only as a monster._

Jeongin wouldn’t have brought him here if _Chan_ wasn’t the “he” Seungmin and the woman had spoken of.

He dropped into a crouch, bark scraping his skin as his t-shirt rode up, and buried his face in his hands. The fox had promised understanding but, if anything, Chan was more confused than ever, with far more questions than answers. Why was _he_ the key? Chan was getting a bit sick of all these things happening _to_ him, without his consideration or input. As though his life was so minor a detail that it could simply be ignored and overlooked.

 _We cannot choose the path life takes us on,_ Jeongin murmured. _We can only respond to it to the best of our ability._

Chan lifted his head, his gaze meeting eyes of gold. _And what is your part in this?_ he wondered. _What end goal are you playing for?_

The fox cocked its head. _It is my duty to care for the residents of Red Fox House._

A bitter smile twisted Chan’s lips. _So, you’re just trying to get me to help Seungmin._ Once again, his own desires were shunted to the side.

 _That is not what I said._ The fox stood, tail pricked. _You, too, are a resident of Red Fox House._

Before Chan could even begin to unpack that, the fox walked out of the shadow of the tree towards the dais. Alarmed that it would draw Seungmin’s attention, Chan poked his head around the poplar’s trunk. But the dais was empty, the crying demon no longer present. Startled but more or less trusting Jeongin, he rose from his crouch and followed the fox out into the moonlight. There was a short flight of stairs leading up to the dais and Chan climbed them slowly, taking in the intricate pattern that the engraved symbols formed, while the fox scampered up ahead. He hesitated before stepping onto the dais, but nothing happened when he did, the stone cool beneath his feet.

 _Now,_ Jeongin said, _you will understand._

The fox’s gold eyes flared bright as stars and Chan winced, throwing up a protective arm. When the light faded a moment later, he lowered his arm and froze in panic – the shadow-wreathed woman and Seungmin had suddenly reappeared. But they weren’t paying him any attention and, as Seungmin’s hair was long and braided, it occurred to Chan that this was a scene from long ago. A scene Jeongin had brought forth to show him.

The woman, the details of her face hidden by her shadowy veil, slapped Seungmin with unrestrained fury, causing him to stagger. He raised a hand to rub his cheek, snarling like a wild animal.

 _‘You dare scorn me? You will pay dearly for this,’_ she hissed, her voice echoing like an old recording.

Seungmin scoffed, the tilt of his chin arrogant. _‘Your magic may inspire dread in the hearts of weak mortals, Belial, but I do not fear you.’_

The woman stood tall and held out her arms, raising them to chest height, and a heavy sense of raw power pressed down upon Chan. _‘That is because you are a fool, Abaddon. In the name of the Unholy One Who Was Once Morningstar, I curse you,’_ she intoned. _‘As you have spurned me, so too shall love spurn you for a thousand lifetimes.’_

Harsh laughter tore from Seungmin’s throat. _‘I am a Duke of Hell. You think this will cow me? I have no need for love.’_

Belial ignored him, continuing to speak her ringing words. _‘At the completion of your sentence, you will know your saviour as one whom you cannot harm and any suffering you cause them will be tripled upon you. But they will know you only as a monster, a demon in heart as well as nature.’_

The familiar words smacked into Chan like punches to the gut, leaving him winded.

_‘You will not bewitch them to love you – they will do so freely or not at all and then you will keep your heart alone for the rest of your days. Let it be so.’_

The air pressure dropped suddenly and Chan flinched as ears popped. Before him, Seungmin choked and reeled as though something had hit him hard in the chest, dropping to one knee.

Belial dropped her hands and sneered, _‘We shall see who is laughing a thousand years hence, when you heart has grown cold, Abaddon, and then again in fifty thousand years, when your saviour comes and you are helpless as any mortal before them.’_

Seungmin glared up at her, his expression filled with icy hatred. _‘Leave, Belial, before I forget myself.’_

 _‘As you wish,’_ she replied stonily.

The shadows encircled her and she was gone. In the same moment, Seungmin vanished, too, and Chan was left staring at the stone dais.

 _Now,_ Jeongin murmured, _you understand._

Chan’s breath thrummed in the back of his throat and his stomach twisted into writhing knots. His skin was stretched too tight over his bones and his hands were shaking. He felt sick, as bad as when Seungmin had gripped his chin and dragged him from the apartment in Seoul.

‘Do I,’ he whispered, letting his eyelashes flutter down. When he was overwhelmed, he found it better to shut his eyes, to close off one of his senses. ‘What do I understand?’

_You understand why he brought you here._

‘I was under the impression,’ Chan said faintly, ‘that I chose to do so.’

_Would it have hurt you more to let him take your sister?_

Chan didn’t reply, but he knew the answer. Of course it would have. He’d have been terrified for Chanmi, imagining all sorts of awful things that might’ve been happening to her. And he’d have missed her worse than he did now. She had made his home life tolerable.

‘He brought me here selfishly,’ he said at last. ‘To spare himself pain.’ _To_ use _me._

_For the first part of your statement – he is a demon. Altruism is not in his nature. And as for the pain – did he sound free of it before?_

The memory of Seungmin’s anguished cries was fresh in Chan’s mind and he shivered. Opening his eyes, he looked down at the marble fox and its piercing gold gaze.

‘Are you trying to make me feel sorry for him?’ he demanded, a whisper of anger curling deep in his gut. ‘Just as the deal was between him and my father, the curse was between him and that woman, Belial. Yet somehow I’ve been dragged into it again. I don’t owe Seungmin _anything.’_

The fox regarded him silently for a long minute and Chan didn’t shrink beneath its powerful stare, the flickering flames in his belly giving him strength.

 _This is correct,_ Jeongin replied eventually. _If anything, he owes you._

‘Do the others know?’ Chan blurted, struck by a sudden fear. ‘Are they expecting me to – to –’ _roll over like a dog and free him?_

Was that the only reason they’d been friendly with him?

 _You think too little of them,_ Jeongin chided. _We might all be demons of some description or another, but your decisions are your own._

Relief filtered through Chan, softening some of the tension coiling behind his sternum.

The fox stood and headed for the stairs. _Come, it is time for us to return._

Swathed in a silence that was heavy, but not uncomfortable, they did just that.

  


  


Chan didn’t sleep at all that night. He paced through his rooms, feeling outrage and sheer fury slowly coalesce into a burning rage that pooled in his bones, coated his mouth with the taste of iron.

The sky had scarcely begun to pale with the coming dawn when the final thread of cautious reason holding Chan in check snapped and he stormed through the house until Jeongin led him where he wanted to go. His earlier inhibitions about disturbing Seungmin long gone, he flung open the double doors and felt a surge of vicious satisfaction when the demon looked up, startled. Clearly, the Red Fox had not warned him of Chan’s approach.

‘You,’ Chan spat, striding across the study.

Seungmin quickly schooled his expression to neutral interest and walked out from behind his stone desk. ‘Can I –’

Chan placed his hands on Seungmin’s chest and shoved him _hard_ , knocking him back against the rough stone and he had to whip out a hand behind himself so as not to fall. Cold eyes blew wide with shock.

 _‘You,’_ Chan snarled. His hands were shaking as he fisted them in the purple silk shirt, crowding the demon until they were nose to nose, the scent of lavender filling the air. ‘You do all _this_ to me, rip apart my life like wet paper, and now you want to _use me like a puppet?’_

Seungmin’s lips parted, but no sound came out, and Chan gave him no chance to collect his wits.

‘I will not be manipulated! I am not a – a _chew toy_ , I am not a _casualty_ of my father’s oath to you, and I _refuse_ to be a consequence of someone else’s curse on you.’ His breath was coming in ragged pants, but the madness of rage narrowed his focus and he slammed his forearm into Seungmin’s chest, forcing the demon down onto his elbow, those dark eyes so wide. Lowering his voice to a shaking whisper, Chan hissed, ‘I don’t want your pity and I don’t want your apologies or excuses. You think you can abandon me in your house and then _use me_ to break your curse? And after that? Discard what’s left of me when you have _ruined me a second time?’_

Seungmin swallowed and Chan barely restrained himself from sinking his teeth into the pale flesh of that slender throat, the ferocity of his impulses somehow not shocking to him.

‘You claim to own me, _demon,’_ Chan gritted out, ‘but it’s my heart you need and you don’t seem to have it, do you?’

The expression on Seungmin’s face was indecipherable as he cautiously shook his head. ‘I don’t. A heart must be given, not taken.’

The audaciousness of what he was about to propose coursed through Chan like a rush of adrenaline straight to the head. It was utter lunacy, but he was pretty sure the sanity boat had sat sail the moment he’d put his life in the hands of a demon.

‘And what will you give _me_ , in exchange for my heart?’

Seungmin’s gaze sharpened, a knife edge dragged over the whetstone, and he lifted his free hand to close around one of Chan’s wrists, slowly pushing himself upright with his other arm. Chan didn’t step back and the air seemed to hum as their bodies aligned, Seungmin’s fringe brushing his forehead as the demon tilted his head down to stay level with Chan.

‘What,’ he whispered intently, ‘do you want?’

Chan could taste lavender in his mouth, could smell it in every breath he took, could feel the faintest brush of delicate petals over his skin. He parted his lips, felt the heat of Seungmin’s gaze as he ran his tongue over his teeth.

‘Fair is fair,’ he mumbled. ‘A heart for a heart.’

Seungmin stiffened and Chan tightened his grip, sliding one hand up to boldly cup Seungmin’s nape.

‘You cannot ask for what you will not give,’ he said. ‘Then I will own you as much as you own me.’

Seungmin exhaled, his breath tickling Chan’s jaw. ‘You would bind yourself to a Duke of Hell so easily? There is no going back from such a thing and, one day, I will be called on to ride into war again.’

‘I would bind myself to _you,’_ Chan corrected, ‘because you, Duke of Hell, Abaddon, Seungmin, you will bind yourself to _me_. Give me your heart and no more will you cry my tears.’

Seungmin’s eyes widened at that, hand clenching around Chan’s wrist, but he asked no questions. ‘Very well,’ he murmured. ‘The deal is acceptable. Let us seal it.’

‘How do we do that?’ Chan asked, not allowing himself to dwell on what he’d just done, what he was _doing_. What he was about to do.

A dangerous, slashing grin spread wide across Seungmin’s face and he cradled Chan’s jaw with one hand. ‘In the most age-old of ways – a kiss, of course.’

He pressed their mouths together and greedily took Chan’s gasp into himself, holding him firm as the deal was sealed and the weight of it echoed through every fibre of Chan’s being. He clung to Seungmin as his body trembled, abruptly terrified and _hungry_ in equal measure. Seungmin held him close, manhandling him without breaking contact so that Chan was the one pushed against the stone slab, bent back over it until his head touched the cool surface. Chan dug his nails into every bit of Seungmin he could reach, pinning the demon to him as he smiled into the kiss, felt sharp teeth nip at his lip, opening his mouth wider. Their tongues slid around one another and saliva dripped down their chins, smeared slick and sticky between their mouths, oxygen a thing of the past.

  


Madness, no, _acceptance_ , tasted like lavender.

  


  



End file.
